Fated to the Alpha–And His Triplet Brothers novel Chapter 88

Chapter 88: human blood

Author’s POV

The High House had never known such silence. Not even in times of war. Grief had swallowed every corridor, every soul that walked its halls.

The people of New Orleans stood cloaked in mourning, heads bowed, hearts shattered, as they prepared to bury the children of their Alpha and Luna.

Three bodies lay still beneath layers of sacred cloth..one belonging to Cyrius Salvatore, the long-lost prince who had once returned only to fall again, and the other two... were his newborn heirs.

Hazel’s babies. Salvatore-blooded. Innocent.

Their small, cold forms had been wrapped carefully, reverently, and placed in enchanted coffins lined with wolfsbane and silver vines. The scent of lavender and sage hovered in the air, masking the scent of death but not the weight of it.

This was no ordinary burial. It would not happen at dusk.

The Salvators were not buried beneath any sun. They were to be buried at midnight, under the full Blue Moon...when the pack’s power was at its peak, when the name of their bloodline glowed brightest in the sky. It was an honor reserved only for royalty.

Hazel, their mother, remained unconscious in the bedchamber. Breathing but barely.

Her skin was pale, lips dry, and her body unmoving as if her soul had left with the children.

The healer could not reach her. The herbs did not stir her. Her mind, it seemed, had chosen to sleep through the pain.

Caspian refused to leave her side.

He sat like a statue, fingers curled around hers, whispering apologies into her silence. He watched the rise and fall of her chest like a man who feared she would stop breathing at any moment. His guilt was a storm behind his eyes. His love, a chain that kept him kneeling beside her.

Cayden, however, had not taken it so quietly.

His fury had torn through the manor like a hurricane. He had killed three wolves before his father restrained him. Shattered walls. Broken bones. The guards no longer dared to stand too close. He refused food. Refused rest. And when he screamed, the walls themselves trembled.

It was the sound of a father who had lost everything.

And yet...

In the silent chamber where the coffins lay, something stirred.

At first, it was nothing. A faint scratching. A thump, too soft to startle anyone.

Then—a violent cough.

The sound exploded into the stillness.

One of the coffins shuddered. The enchanted lid jerked upward and slammed open.

From within the coffin... a hand reached out. Shaking. Bloodied.

Cyrius Salvatore rose.

His body convulsed as he coughed out a thick stream of blackened blood. The blue hue that once covered his skin was fading, peeling away like mist retreating at dawn. His chest heaved, ragged and wild. He blinked rapidly, as though the light stung.

"What... happened?" his voice cracked, barely a whisper.

He looked down at himself at his bloodied palms, the torn shroud clinging to his torso. He had been dead. He knew that with every fiber of his being. His soul had crossed something... and yet now, he was here.

Alive...But then—a sound..Another muffled noise.

He turned sharply, groaning as he fell from the coffin. His legs failed him, so he crawled dragging himself to the next tiny coffin.

The babies.

They were dead. He was dead. Cayden had struck him down.

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